The silence that followed was palpable, with everyone gazing intently at the young Raven, each lost in their own thoughts.
Markus, the assessor, had let his mask of joy and lightness fall, and he regarded Raven like a chess player would contemplate their Queen, pondering how to best utilize the piece to win the game.
Tristan looked at Raven, attempting to mimic the occasional look of disinterest his father displayed, which the younger boy clearly recognized as fake. What Raven didn't know was that behind that expression, Tristan was trying to conceal the relief and happiness he felt for his brother. "Now you truly had a chance to survive the expected duties as a member of the Flamul family. I don't need to worry about as much anymore".
Helena gazed at her younger brother with a genuine smile, already envisioning future missions she wanted to undertake with him to make their mother happy. Even Valéria seemed less icy than usual, making Raven contemplate the idea that his siblings might view him as a deficient swordsman and a bit of a black sheep within the family, which, given his arcane affinity, wasn't entirely untrue.
However, what intrigued Raven the most wasn't the radiant smile his father wore, even though it was the first genuinely happy smile Lord Flamul directed at his youngest son. What truly captivated Raven's attention was his mother's gaze.
It wasn't as cold as usual, the gaze of Isabella Flamul, the most venomous snake in the Flamul family, held a sadness that Raven could swear was on the verge of tears. However, her countenance soon hardened when Harald finally spoke.
"My children, you may take the rest of the day to do as you please. Bella, Markus, come to my office. We need to talk."
Raven didn't need a second warning. Without paying attention to anything else, he sprinted towards his room, eager to meditate on everything he had experienced there and trembling at the thought of the tranquil days that would soon follow. Upon entering his room, Raven dismissed Cuthbert's company and chose to be alone to contemplate.
The boy had discovered elemental affinities beyond the school of illusion that he had secretly been training in with his teacher and butler. Markus's words still echoed in his mind.
"Is my potential limitless? What does that mean? Can I learn more about magic beyond illusion and elemental magic?"
When will I be forced to enroll in the preparatory academy for battle mages?
Questions formed in Raven's mind, and he didn't notice the passing of time until Cuthbert knocked on the door.
"Young Raven, Lord Harald requests your presence in his office."
The Lord Harald's workspace was a room that immediately conveyed the grandeur and authority of the Flamul family. A majestic and imposing oak desk dominated the center of the room, covered with a variety of documents and scrolls scattered about, showcasing the busy nature of the family's leader. The dark wood of the desk seemed to absorb the very history of the Flamul lineage, marked by important decisions and strategic plans.
Three equally sturdy chairs surrounded the desk, each one intricately carved with details that exuded a sense of solidity and prestige. On the left side, near the desk, an impressive fireplace crackled softly, emitting a comforting warmth that contrasted with the cold and calculating aura that usually permeated the mansion's hallways.
Opposite the fireplace, a towering wooden bookshelf stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with leather-bound volumes, ancient grimoires, and magical treatises. The books housed there appeared to contain knowledge accumulated over generations, a library of wisdom that served as a guide for the family's course.
A grand window occupied almost an entire wall, allowing natural light to bathe the space in a soft glow. As the day transitioned into night, the room was illuminated by strategically placed wall sconces and on the desk itself, creating an intimate atmosphere conducive to deep reflections and confidential conversations. It was there, in this sanctuary of power and strategy, that the destinies of the Flamul family were shaped and forged.
Harald stood by the window, gazing out as he puffed on a finely carved pipe. The smoke curled and danced in the air, mirroring the intricate patterns etched into the pipe itself. Markus was seated in one of the chairs near the fireplace, his eyes fixed on the flickering flames.
"I know that the Flamul Family is as ancient as the empire itself. We have worked alongside the imperial family since the times when the Verona Empire was just the Verona territory, one of many subordinated and enslaved domains of the elven royal family, Thalariel. We helped the Verona family slowly gain power and strengthen until they conquered the entire continent, pushing the elves overseas. After the elves were expelled, we had an internal war that lasted for a hundred years to dominate the other domains that betrayed us and thought they could regain power once Thalariel was gone. This war was during your father's time as the former patriarch of the family. Once the dominance was established and the Verona Empire was formed, the former lord retired only to die peacefully, while you became the patriarch, and we moved our domains to where we are now."
"Hmm, that's just the surface of our family," the lord finally turned, his stare upon Raven resembled a black hole – deep, magnetic, and devoid of light
"Flamul signifies power. In our blood runs the blood of the greatest champions of the continent. Our family is like the key piece to the empire. We create and shape experts to operate on various fronts, removing all obstacles for the empire's growth.
On the battlefield, at courts, eliminating troublesome or dissenting figures, gathering information, providing strategies for diverse fronts. In our family, the weak have no place, family betrayal has no place. I, you, and your siblings exist for only one purpose.
Conquest."
"For the next 2 years, you will be taught to carry yourself as a true Flamul. I will instruct you in the family's fencing and combat techniques, and prepare you mentally and physically so you can fulfill your purpose. I am well aware of your discontent at the prospect of being sent to the preparatory academy for battle mages, but my son, that academy would have never been worthy of a Flamul. If your talent were weak, you would be sent there with a disownment letter.
You will still learn the craft of a battle mage, however, your training will be conducted in a more 'exclusive' setting – a secret training ground overseen by Markus here.
You will not only wage war, as Tristan will, as I do, and as my father did before me, you will be one of the cannons of domination and ultimate conquest, bringing prestige to the empire as a member of the Flamul clan. I've allowed you to grow soft and weak for far too long.
But father—" Lord Harald cut Raven off, his intimidating aura emerging, making the air cold and heavy. His expression turned severe, and all lamps went out except for the fireplace. The power in his voice nearly made young Raven falter.
"These are not the words of a father to a son; these are the orders of the leader of the Flamul family to an Imperial subordinate. This is not just a command; it's an imperial decree."